


To Noise Making

by QueenOfMotherfuckingTerrasen



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: ALL THE NEWSIES ARE GAY, Bear IS ME, Canon Era, F/F, F/M, I said that but still, Just don't, Moon is pretty much me, Secret Relationships, Smokey is angry and gay and does not know how to speak his feelings, Smokey is just angry all the time, They are all gay, They hate eachother, Warrior deserves a girlfriend, a helpless lesbian but replace lesbian with pan, and goes to church more than I do, angel is legit an angel, any newsies oc that ain't mine belongs to StariNights, broolyn and manhatten newsies are fine but Stantons are diasters, dark tall handsome and will kick your ass, do not put War and Smokey in the same room, eventually, go check her out she's awesome, homophobics of the time, i made stanton island ocs and yes I am using them, its one of the two, or trans, sharing beds cuz theres only ONE bed, so she gets a girlfriend, someone mother these children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfMotherfuckingTerrasen/pseuds/QueenOfMotherfuckingTerrasen
Summary: The newsies won the strike, got better paid but that doesn't mean life has changed! It's still rough for a bunch of outcast in 1899. It doesn't help that they have relationship problems, especially on other boys or girls. Buckle up, this is going to be an interesting ride.





	To Noise Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokey is a feared newsie. He'll fight anyone for no reason and he's petty enough to chase someone off Stanton Island, as he does with most of his exes. But what happens when Smokey falls in love with an absolute sweetheart? The chapter is what hapepens.

Angel was going to die. Sure, he wasn’t sick and the nuns weren’t beating him but he knew sooner or later Death was coming for him. Angel didn’t know what he _did_ to piss off Smokey but it had to be something since the violent leader of Staten Island Newsies glared at him every morning when Angel brought them coffee and donuts. He figured it was something small, Smokey was petty like that.

Since Angel wasn’t one for dying, he shrugged his duty on to another orphan the nuns took in. “Ace, you bring the boys their coffee now.” they were in the church and Angel was careful not to slip in a ‘ya’, in case a nun heard them. The nuns didn’t beat him often but street talk was something they always were trying to shake out of his system.

Ace stared at him, his green eyes wide in disbelief. “But Angel, ya always bring ‘heir coffee!”

Under his breath, Angel corrected his grammar as he looked around. No nuns in sight. “Well, Smokey’s going to kill me. You bring the coffee.” Ace took the job disgruntled and Angel was able to get his papes and scramble before the tall, dark, handsome, violent leader could get his hands on him. _Why does he have to be cute?!_ Angel lamented as he made his way to his selling spot, not even sparing time to drink any coffee.

Meanwhile, Smokey was glaring at Ace. Ace, terrified, handed out the coffee. Smokey turned his head towards Moon, his second. The useless lesbian was sipping Spunk’s coffee. Spunk was already too energetic to drink any coffee and every morning the newsies fought over it. Today, Moon won and Spunk’s girl, Spark handed her the coffee as if it was a laurel wreath.

“‘here’s ‘he blond kid?” Smokey pretended he didn’t know Angel’s name, he wasn’t supposed to care. Supposed to, Smokey’s heart tended not to listen to his head.

Moon raised her light eyes from the tin cup. She took a shallow sip, savoring her cup. Spunk’s cup was steaming close by and Moon was vigilant for other newsies looking to steal it. “I’ thought ya knew,”

“‘here is ‘e, Moon,” Smokey swallowed his coffee, not caring if it burned his throat.

She took another sip. “‘E thought ya were gonna kill ‘im. So ‘e’se at ‘is sellin’ spot,”

He stared at her, frowning. _Angel thinks I’se goin’ to kill ‘om? As if._ “I ain’t gonna kill ‘im.” Turns out, Smokey is bad at love. All of his exes were either assholes or transphobic or better - both! When the flame died and Smokey dusted off the ashes, he kicked them off the island but Angel...Angel was different. Angel made him want to punch a wall but in...in a good way??? Smokey was shit at feelings.  

“Then why were ya glarin’ at ‘im- hey! Back up, Mouse! I’se see ya!” Moon barked at the short newsie and he backed away, huffing and going back to his bruised boyfriend.

Mouse gave her the finger and settled next to his boyfriend. “Whiskey, ya should come live in ‘he lodge house, ya can’t save ‘em.” he rested his head on Whiskey’s shoulder - after looking to make sure no one but the newsies was around.

“I’se know.” the tired newsie sighed.“‘Ey, did ya bind too tight?”

“Don’t get me started, Whiskey,”  They drank their coffee together. Content in each other company, glaring at each other slightly for (probably) bandaging their chest too tight.

Smokey turned back to Moon who drained her first cup and was working on her second. “I didn’t mean to glare at ‘im, I’se just...lookin’.”

“Must have been the scowl then.” Moon shrugged her shoulder, her curls spilling over from her cap. “Go talk to ‘im after sellin’ hours.” She turned away, draining her coffee as the doors opened for the rest of them. Angel was a sweetie so he got his papes early. Smokey grabbed his papes and started towards his spot, glancing at Angel as he passed him. The newsie paled and looked away at the sight of Smokey. Then to make things worse, when Smokey headed back to explain himself - Angel was gone.

“Fuck.” he headed back to the lodge house. Tics was back, helping him out which was great despite his nagging. He surveyed his newsies. Viper was stitching up her girlfriend, reciting snake facts as Stitches downed a bottle of whiskey to try and numb herself. Moon was chatting to Diamond about some pretty girl she sold a pape too, a poker game was set up in the corner. Rags and Patches sat next to each other and played for pennies, their knees knocking together when either got too excited before blushing while the rest of the table groaned and rolled their eyes. A few more were missing - Mouse and Whiskey, Lace, Chatter, Mist, Spunk and Spark, and the new kid - Brooke, he figured they were either sleeping or still selling. Mist, he knew, was out working at his second or third job in the city.

Smokey snagged the whiskey bottle from Stitches and sat on the couch, drinking straight from the bottle. Moon got one look at him and made her way over. “Soooo, it went bad?” she guessed.

“He fuckin’ ran before I’ could talk to ‘im.” He took another swing. It burned his throat but he didn’t care.

“Geez.”

“How the _fuck,_ ” He hissed as Moon grabbed the bottle from him, “is I supposed to tell ‘im anythin’ if ‘e keeps runnin’?”

Moon drank from the half-empty whiskey bottle. “Go to church, Smokes”

He grunted, sinking in the stiff couches. “Moon, why the fuck would I do dat?”

“‘E’s called Angel cuz he’s a Catholic too, it’s Saturday. Church is tomorrow, just go see ‘em.” and that’s how Smokey found himself in church for the first time in his life. He stood in the back with the rest of the vagrants, the ones who didn’t have money to pay for kneelers or pews. As someone who didn’t care about religion, it was...weird. The priest spoke in Latin, a language Smokey didn’t know, and there were songs Smokey never heard. The bread was a body and the wine was blood - weird shit but he saw Angel, singing up there with the choir. Smokey was pretty sure Angel couldn’t see him but he admired him without swooning.

Wrong. Angel could see him, Smokey stuck out like a sore thumb with his dark skin, ragged clothes, and scowl. “Oh, god,” he whispered. Ace turned and nudged him for sinning but Angel couldn’t take his eyes off the newsie.

“what?” Ace whispered, they had some time between songs and the priest was spinning himself a tale about the horridness of homosexuality and the ‘transvestites’ - God help me for having to write that word, I’m sorry. Subtly, Angel pointed Smokey out to Ace who not at all subtle gasped loudly. The priest turned and glared, Ace muttering out a “sorry, Father,” before he went back to his preaching.

They stared together before Ace whispered, “why is _Smokey_ in church?” It wasn’t like some newsies were religious but they were poor. Going to church was expensive with pew money and kneelers. Besides the Catholic church was notorious for messages that went against a lot of newsies identities, lovers, or even skin tone. There was no reason for Smokey with his dark skin, passion for having flings shorter than a cat’s pregnancy, and binding of his chest, to be in a Catholic church for _any_ reason.

But Angel had an idea. It wasn’t the right idea but he had an idea. “He’s come to kill me,” he whispered, horrified.

“Oh, you are _so_ dead.”

“Not helping.” the conversation ended when they had another song to sing and at the end of the hour, Angel wanted nothing more to run but he had to change. When he walked out, there was Smokey, waiting. In his head, he constructed his will. _Sisters, don’t give Ace my bed, he wasn’t good to me once he knew my fate. Put on my tombstone ‘he fell in love with the wrong boy’. Actually, don’t. Shit. fuck._

“Ya got a nice voice,” said the leader of the island’s newsies.

“Thanks?” Angel rubbed his arms, resisting the urge to fidget and run. “So before you kill me, can you tell me _what_ I did?”

Smokey blinked his dark eyes and shook his head. “I’ ain’t goin’ to kill ya, jesus, why does everyone think I’se goin’ to kill ya?” He mumbled the last part to himself.

Now it was his turn to stare with big blue eyes. “You’re...you’re not going to kill me?”

“No!” huffed Smokey, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. Fidgeting was better than losing his temper, he guessed.

“Then why were you glaring at me?”

“I - shit, fuck. Can ‘e talk….not in a church? I ain’t keen on this place.”

“Oh! Sure,” they slipped out the back door into the city, Angel relaxing in his speech and Smokey looked more comfortable far away from churches. “Soooooo?” The streets were empty for the most part, some churches had longer mass but there were still some people out.

“I ain’t good with mah feelins’.” Smokey said which was weird but Angel didn’t interrupt him. “Normally I’ just punch ‘em.” Angel kept quiet, waiting to see if Smokey was going to punch _him_. He didn’t. “But with ya...I’ can’t punch ‘em.”

“Why not?”

Smokey peered at him, raising a brow. “Do ya want me to punch ya?”

“No! No, no, I’m good!” he rambled, holding up his hands frantically. Smokey rolled his eyes and huffed, Angel lowered his hands slowly. “But...still, why?”

Smokey huffed and Angel wondered if maybe he shouldn’t be pestering him. Smokey was known to fly off the handle and his reputation was more fear driven than respect. Then Smokey did something unexpected, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the nearest alley - it was a dead end. He pushed the pretty boy against the wall, not too hard but enough to keep him there and took a good look.

“Why? Why you?” he mumbled under his breath. Angel was smart, just batting his eyelashes and trying not to die. Then Smokey did something else unexpected, he pushed his lips against Angel. _Oh. oh. Oooooooh._ Angel thought as they kissed. _He likes me. Well, this is an interesting turn of events_ but Angel wasn’t complaining, he kissed him right back. Full make out session in the alley without a care in the world. That was until someone hooted at them, that was until Smokey launched himself from Angel and beat the absolute shit out of them.

“Come on.” Smokey pulled him out of the alley, past the bleeding scoundrel, and towards the lodge house. The lodge house was empty, everyone else out selling. Smokey pulled him up the stairs and Angel followed. They kissed in the attic which served as Smokey’s make-shift room on his creaky bed. Angel’s lips were swollen and Smokey left kisses on his neck. It was heated but eventually, it cooled down. Mostly because the writer doesn’t write smut.

After a while they just laid together, staring at the seeling with Angel’s head on Smokey’s chest. “What are we?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know.” Smokey mumbled back. There wasn’t really a word for what they were or maybe there was. Boyfriend, husband, partner, an array of terms that eventually they’d decide on but for now they were just so...new. It was to be tested, stretched out, and tried. Smokey hoped it might last longer than two weeks and Angel hoped he wouldn’t be kicked off the island if this went sour.

“I guess we’ll find out together,” whispered Angel.

“Yeah,” Smokey nodded and shut his eyes. Both their lips were swollen and they decided to  _fuck it_  and napped.

Only for Moon to come up two hours later for whatever reason. “Smokes! Smokes! OH!”

“For fuck's sake, Moon!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be about either Moon, the useless lesbian, or Mama Bear, the stressed mom. Maybe both??


End file.
